


Twelve Days (Hours) of Christmas

by InTheGarrison



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Breakfast, Bunker Fluff, Cas loves Christmas, Castiel Sings, Christmas, F/M, Fluff, Grumpy Dean, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Sam totally ships it, Ugly Christmas Sweaters, bunker kitchen, cas is a coffee addict i don't make the rules, coffee overconsumption, cute cas, eileen and dean are being grumpy twins, enthusiastic sam
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:21:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28028448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InTheGarrison/pseuds/InTheGarrison
Summary: What do Dean and Cas get up to during Christmas?
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester (implied) - Relationship, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	1. Twelve Days of Christmas

Dean grinned into his pillow as he watched the scene in front of him unfold with affection and content. Sam and John were playfully mocking the crooked-knit socks Mary presented Sam with, which made her avert her eyes and draw out an embarrassed laugh. Her smile betrayed her though, showing Dean she was just as amused as her husband and son at her lack of housewife-y skills. In an attempt at good will, the socks looked ginormous, even too big for the sasquatch’s feet. The family was gathered around an oval wood table, decorated with the bare Christmas dinner essentials and plates still halfway filled with a pre-made convenience feast. Twelve days of Christmas was softly and at the same time passionately blaring from somewhere and Dean could not picture a more perfect festive get-together.

The cosy scene eventually froze and faded, but the song was still playing in his head. Blinking into the darkness, Dean realised his dream–Christmas was indeed that; a dream. He groaned upon the realisation and again when twelve days of Christmas was replayed from somewhere inside the bunker. The song was annoying (not only because Sam used to sing it in his high-pitched baby voice throughout most his early childhood years), but it made him feel christmassy nonetheless. He swung his legs out of the bed and grabbed his fluffiest flannel, the one he may or may not have been wearing for close to a week, from the chair to protect him from the cold of the bunker’s hallways.

The size of the bunker and it being underground did not make heating an easy task and now with it being winter it added a special kind of walk-in-freezer quality. Because of that, and because his stomach was already rumbling, he made his way to the warm kitchen to serve himself his favourite salty, crispy, fatty breakfast. He noticed the music (and also the singing! Oh, Christ!) seemed to originate from this destination, as it grew louder (and more passionate) with every step. Dean braced himself as he entered the bunker’s kitchen but still, he could not have possibly been prepared for the sight that hit him.

A very antlered, very ugly-Christmas-jumper-wearing angel was handling two frying pans and looking at them with a concentration that was in total contrast to his passionate singing of

_“On the third day of Christmas,_

_my true love sent to me Three French hens,_

_Two turtle doves,_

_And a partridge in a pear tree.”_

Although a crime to his ears, Dean smirked at Castiel shamelessly enjoying himself. Did angels celebrate Christmas? During all their years together, it never came up. Dean never asked and the Winchesters never had a place to call home where Cas would have been able to do – well that. Dean cleared his throat awkwardly, the sound swallowed by the way too loud music that seemed to come from exactly nowhere, but Castiel spun around anyway, his super-hearing picking up the human’s attempt to make himself noticed. The singing stopped and the volume was turned down just a bit. Apparently by the angel’s mind.

_“Bacon or pancakes?”_

_“Bacon pancakes? Bacon pancakes”,_ Dean stated matter-of-factly, _“and lose the antlers Cas, you look ridiculous”_

He wave-gestured at Castiel’s headpiece and silently thanked the lord that he didn’t go for a real set of antlers. The hunter flopped down on one of the stools from which he had a good view of Castiel working, fully expecting to be served a delicious breakfast. As he noticed that the coffee had already run through, he got up again to pour himself a small cup (why did they only have the tiniest cups??). The coffee was the best kind of black, the bacon was fried to perfect crunchiness, and the pancakes were fluffy and buttery. Apparently being a great cook came with the angel upgrade pack.

Dean moaned into his fork as he finished his second pancake and Castiel finished his first round of “twelve days of Christmas” since Dean entered the kitchen. He might have been over-eagerly devouring the food …

_“Where did you get that ugly motherfucker from, anyway?”_

Dean inquired, mouth still half full of salty-sweet heaven and pointing at Castiel’s choice of clothing with his fork.

_“Oh this,”_ he rubbed at the soft, fluffy material, _“was a gift from Sam.”_

The angel stated, smiling to himself. It was the first gift anyone ever gave to him. Well, after Dean’s mixtape of course. Dean snorted, debating between believing Castiel and not believing his brother for whatever got into him.

_“Sam… got this for you?”_

The hunter asked with a voice that, to his shock, sounded more like jealousy than mockery. Blue eyes looked at him, first confused, then almost proud.

_“Yes, Dean. We share the same fondness of any and all holiday activities.”_

Dean sighed. This sounded too much like two against one in this department. Lucky him it was already Christmas day so hopefully there wouldn’t be much more of this to come. Maybe Castiel could keep cooking though, that was convenient. And if he was being honest, the angel singing was a rather pleasant sound. Maybe he could sing him to sleep every once in a while? The thought smoothly slipped into his brain before Dean could stop it from manifesting. He would like that.


	2. Snow day it is

When Castiel determined he had cooked up enough of a pancake stack and cholesterol-inducing meat slices to keep Dean sustained for the morning, he turned off the stove and put the spatula down on a grease-stained dishtowel. He grabbed the plates with the food and placed them on the spacious kitchen table so Dean could help himself to seconds, thirds, etcetera. Then he picked up Dean’s empty coffee mug and refilled it along side with a cup for himself.

_“Thanks, man.”_

Dean stretched over the table to accept his refilled mug and Cas carefully sat down across from him. The music had been turned down to an almost inaudible background noise and they sat in silence for a while. Dean was ploughing through his second serving of buttery-crisp bliss (although much slower, given he was under the scrutiny of Cas’ attentive eyes) and Castiel found great interest in fiddling with an already close to empty coffee mug between both his hands.

_“Sam and Eileen are late.”_

Dean finally remarked. Because they totally were. If anyone got a ~~good~~ long night’s sleep in this bunker, it was Dean.

Cas hummed in response.

Dean eyed Cas from behind his cutlery, but the angel was looking at a spot somewhere behind Dean’s right shoulder, eyes unfocused. When Dean didn’t get a response to his remark, he tried again.

_“So what’s the plan today, if you’re all in on this …. Christmas business?”_

The angel’s gaze snapped back into focus and Dean could see blue eyes brightening up.

_“I was thinking to get out into the snow? Enjoy it while it lasts?”_

His voice was hopeful.

_“Enjoy the snow, huh?”_

There was a gentle slope behind the bunker that was undeniably perfect for, let’s say, sledding or activities of the sorts.

_“What did you have in mind?”_

Dean asked tentatively.

_“It looks so bright and peaceful. Undisturbed snow is beautiful.”_

_“And cold.”_

_“Yes.”_

_“We will have to bundle up.”_

_“I have my sweater.”_

Dean grimaced.

_“Okay then. Snow day it is.”_

_“Dean?”_

_“Yes, Cas?”_

_“Merry Christmas.”_

Dean let a soft smile creep onto his face.

_"Merry Christmas to you too, Cas."_


	3. Have a Cup of C(heer)offee

Cas was on his fourth cup of coffee when Sam and Eileen shuffled into the bunker’s kitchen. Eileen was wrapped in Sam’s dead guy robe, which positively swallowed her. She was snuggling into it tightly and was visibly relieved to find the kitchen adequately heated. Sam however, much to Dean’s horror, was proudly sporting the same item of clothing he had the misfortune of looking at during the past hour.

They really went there.

At least Sam skipped the antler headpiece part. Still, he looked ridiculous. Especially because the sweater was a fair bit too short at the arms, which was a usual occurrence for Sam.

_"Merry Christmas, Dean!"_ he announced. _"Cas."_ He nodded at the angel conspiratively.

_“Right back at you, Sammy. And Eileen!”_

Dean replied, a frown on his face and tiredly raising his coffee mug for a toast. He could see Eileen roll her eyes at Sam behind his back and Dean smiled sheepishly. Maybe there was someone with him on the grumpy side of things. She quickly signed her Merry Christmas to the group and continued to ask Sam what he would want to eat, as she concluded the sad “stack” of pancakes (there were two left) and three surviving strips of bacon were the lonely remnants of Dean’s breakfast. Sam spun around and gently kissed Eileen on the head. After stepping back so she could read his mouth he said:

_“Blueberry Porridge? I guess there are still some berries left.”_

_“I only used half a pack.”_ Castiel confirmed.

Dean made a face at Sam’s choice of breakfast, but Eileen seemed excited enough. The pair shuffled to the fridge and oven and Dean and Cas were once again left in silence.

_“I should make some more coffee.”_ Castiel announced. He pushed himself off the stool and shuffled over to the pantry to retrieve ground coffee and a new filter, the antlers on his head rhytmically bobbing with every step.

_“You know what, maybe turn up the volume again, but skip to the next song, would ya?”_

Dean just realised he had been listening to a frickin’ kid’s Christmas song for over an hour. Cas showed no indication of hearing the hunter, but the volume picked up again, nonetheless. After a pause, the slightly annoying voice finally stopped their enumeration of what exactly their true love was sending them on which day. Instead, some soft Jazz tunes filled the air, along with a very memorable voice.

Dean groaned. Eileen looked at Sam questioningly, clearly having picked up a change in the vibrations.

_“Michael Bublé”,_ Sam stated with a shrug.

Now Eileen groaned as well.

_“Cas, what the heck?”_

Mr. Bublé kept on chirping, undisturbed.

_“I was looking for the most played Christmas songs. This album was on top of that list.”_

_“Of course it is.”_ Dean muttered. _“Even I know about it.”_

_“Also, I do enjoy it.”_

Castiel added confidently, as he flipped the lid of the water container shut and switched on the coffee maker. He turned around and looked at Dean. Dean mirrored Cas' stare with an exhausted expression. When Cas looked at Sam, he was met with a reassuring smile.

_“So, uh, what’s the plan?”_

Sam asked from his station at the smallest hob while stirring the milk and oats together to prevent them from burning. When Eileen provided him with a jar of cinnamon powder, she was rewarded with a quick kiss before Dean could even respond. Gross.

_“Feathers here wants to ‘enjoy the snow’.”_ Dean supplied, making use of finger quotes.

_"Snow?"_ Sam inquired; eyebrows raised and eyes gleaming.


	4. Meowie Christmas

_“That’s exciting, Cas!”_ Sam continued enthusiastically, _“Did we get some snow last night?”_

_“Yes, I think we got about twenty inches.”_

_“Wow, okay, that’s more than enough for sledding.”_ Sam exclaims.

_“Now what, are you four?”_ Dean remarks, his voice laced with fake-annoyance.

Sam makes a face as if he just opened their laundry bag at the end of a long and tedious hunt. Other than that, he chooses to ignore Dean. The Coffee maker hisses and gurgles as the tank pumps the last of its contents up and through the filter. Castiel proceeds to fill all their mugs with fresh coffee and retreats to the table, carefully balancing four full, steaming hot mugs with only two hands. Eileen finishes off her and Sam’s breakfast preparations by pouring the gooey substance in two large bowls and equally distributing the remaining blueberries on top. After grabbing two of those ancient, heavy silver spoons that came with the home upgrade, she settles right next to Dean with an implicitness that makes Dean feel all kinds of warm inside. This is good. This is his family.

_“I’m gonna put sledding on the list. Maybe a snowball fight?”_ Sam muses and manages to sour Dean’s nanosecond of domestic bliss.

Eileen, sitting across from Sam so she can read his lips without difficulty, scrutinises her boyfriend over a spoon of steaming porridge.

_“Sam, I don’t like the cold. Wet cold no less.”_

_“I think I would like to try snow angels? I want to see what it’s about.”_ Castiel adds. His rude disregard for Eileen’s complaint obviously showing that he was more excited than usual.

Dean raises an eyebrow.

_“Dean, a little help here?”_ Eileen pleads with resignation.

_“I don’t know, I guess we can let the kids play?”_ He offers with a shrug.

_“But where are we even gonna get a sled from?”_ Dean tries one last time, but Sam is already out the kitchen door, breakfast untouched.

_“_ _Sam??”_

Instead of receiving an answer from his brother, his ears were attacked with the overly cheerful voice of Mister Christmas trying to sell a headache-inducing version of Jingle Bells.

_“Are you …. humming along?”_

Castiel breathes out in a huff.

_“Look, Dean. I am not letting you ruin my favourite holiday.”_

_“Uh, okay?”_

_“Which kind of festive music would you rather hear?”_

_“Oh, I don’t know, Cas. You got Metallica? Or Led Zep?”_

Castiel regards Dean with slack brows and a disapproving mouth.

Dean pauses for a moment. Oh, this isn’t happening.

_“Dude, is that Sammy’s bitch face on your face? You two gotta stop hanging out so much. It’s getting creepy.”_ Dean half-laughs, which comes out more like a scoff than anything else. _“First those sweaters and now you’re adopting his favourite expressions?”_

_“Are you jealous, Dean?”_

_“What? No.”_ Dean snaps back without missing a beat.

Eileen, who had been quietly eyeing the two men next during their exchange quickly looked back into her oatmeal, when Dean suddenly turned toward her.

_“Do you believe this guy?”_ Dean asks, clearly not giving Eileen any chance to see what he is saying.

She looks back up at him. _“Sorry, what?”_

_“Can you believe him?”_ Dean repeats, stabbing a finger in Castiel’s general direction.

Eileen sighs and drops the spoon back into her bowl. _“Are we still talking about those absolutely hideous sweaters? I swear I had no part in this.”_

_“No,“_ Dean starts, _“I mean yes, that too, definitely. Ugh!”_

Dean throws his hands up in frustration, clearly not bothering to elaborate.

Eileen shrugs and picks up her spoon. _“They got them a while back. I think when they went with Jack? Actually I think the kid has one as well.”_ She explains, before silencing herself with a mouthful of porridge.

_“Jack is a literal child. He’s allowed.”_ Dean grumbles.

_“You know I am sitting right here.”_ Castiel intercedes, reminding them of his presence, _“And yes, of course we bought Jack the same sweater. You know how he is, we wouldn’t want him to feel left out.”_

Dean blinks. _“Of course.”_

Castiel furrows his brows.

_“Where is my sweater then?”_

_“You are neither a child, nor are you particularly interested in Christmas traditions. Sam filled me in on your sweater-aversion.”_

Dean crossed his arms close to his chest. _“Oh, did he? What else did he say about me?”_

Castiel rolled his eyes. _“Dean, you are being childish.”_

_“Oh, says the guy wearing a red fuzzy sweater with cats wrapped in bows under a Christmas tree and fake antlers on his head.”_

_“If you prefer real antlers – “_

Dean holds out one hand. _“No, Jesus!”_

Castiel huffs, because apparently that is his favourite sound to make.

_“Let’s just get this day over with, okay?”_ Dean relents and chugs down the remains of his forgotten coffee.


	5. All I want for Christmas is Metal

_“Did Sam get lost?”_

Eileen asks into the weird rhythm of that horrible Mariah Carey/Metallica mashup song Castiel mistook for a Christmas hit in an attempt to appease Dean.

Before anyone could answer, however, Sam finally appears in the doorway, carrying a beast of a wooden sleigh, complete with metal joints and the works. Apparently, the Men of Letters were no stranger to Sam’s idea of fun. Dean bets Sam knew exactly where this monstrosity had been stored and just waited for his opportunity to present it to them with that stupid grin he is currently wearing.

_“It’s old but in great condition.”_ He comments on his planned find.

_“Are you sure that’s gonna hold you?”_ Dean glanced at Sam’s prized possession with doubt in his eyes.

_“Yes, Dean, it’s very sturdy.”_ Sam replies pointedly.

_“Alright, Sam, now eat your breakfast.”_ Eileen demands sternly.

Sam gives his sleigh one last proud look, before he places it next to the entrance. He reclaims his spot next to Cas and stirs in his cooled down Porridge.

_“What happened to the music?”_ He asks after quiet settles between the four of them.

Castiel fills Sam in nonchalantly. _“Oh, that is a song from Dean’s Christmas wish list.”_

Dean’s response is instant. _“Not true!”_ He states, stabbing a finger at Sam. Then he repeats the same words and gesture at Castiel.

_“Yeah, I think Dean and Cas here had a little misunderstanding over festive Metallica songs.”_ Eileen supplies helpfully because Sam looks a bit lost.

No one comments on the fact that the music smoothly slips back into Bublé-Land and everyone reverts to dealing with their breakfast or (in Cas’ and Dean’s case) looking into their empty coffee mugs as if they held the secrets of the universe(s). The Men of Letters Bunker held a lot of curious items for sometimes straight up weird purposes. But sometimes mugs were just mugs, and their coffee mugs were absolutely ordinary. And very small.

_“You want a refill on that?”_ Cas nods to Dean’s mug. Sam and Eileen still hadn’t touched their coffees.

_“Nah, I’m good, thanks."_ Dean lets him know and fingers at the handle.

Castiel shrugs and turns to Sam on his right.

_“So we have sledding, snow angels and a snowball fight on our list. Anything else?”_

_“I think that’s enough program for today. Humans get cold, Cas.”_ Sam reminds the angel. _“We won’t last too long outside so I guess we’re good with these three.”_

_“Very well.”_ Castiel responds and gets up from his seat. He takes both his and Dean’s mugs to the sink to join two other mugs that still waited to be washed out. He ignored them. He leaned back against the sink and crossed his arms.

_“It’s just past ten now. Should we say we meet at eleven at the front entrance?”_

_“Okay, yes, that still gives us some time to bundle up.”_ Sam agrees.

_“Wo’s us?”_ Dean grits.

_“Us as in me, you – “_ Sam finds Eileen's foot under the table and taps it lightly _“and ice princess over here..”_

She gifted him with her second eyeroll of the day.

Dean sighs. _“Okay, I’ll come. But I’ll bring some Jack to keep me warm.”_

_“Dean, it’s practically morning.”_

_“Dude it’s Christmas! Normal day rules don’t apply.”_ Dean explains, as he clears his dishes and stores his leftovers in the fridge.

As if on cue, Sam and Eileen get up as well, bowls as empty as they are gonna get and draining the better half of their cups in a few quick gulps as if they were completing a ritual they silently agreed on beforehand. Castiel watches as the sink next to him filled up with their dishes. Well, everyone’s dishes but his, he decided, as he rescued his coffee mug from underneath the pile to give it a sloppy rinse. When he shuts the tap, he can hear three pairs of footsteps receding to the sleeping quarters (one faster than the others).

_“I guess that leaves me on dish duty – again.”_

He turns around and sighs into the empty kitchen space. Not bothering with drying his mug, Cas poured the last of the prepared coffee into it. The coffee maker was supposed to keep the liquid heated with a pad underneath the glass jug. Cas suspected something must have broken as he chugged down the lukewarm remains to the solemn jingle of "Silver Bells".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the song in question: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y9w3GSkJBzU


	6. Full of happy sounds

All the washing up is done and there are only two bowls and a mug left to dry and store in their respective cupboards. Cas has ‘baby please come home’ turned up to almost full volume because why the hell not. He is getting seriously into it, since it’s his favourite song.

_“I gotta have you! You know I need you!”_

He almost screams (still melodically though, he thinks) and he can feel his antlers bobbing along to his almost-headbanging.

He thinks about how he feels absolutely content to be in the bunker kitchen doing the dishes on Christmas eve morning, because apparently that’s his life now. With numerous apocalypses averted and Chuck-God finally out of the picture Cas (and Sam, after confiding in him) decided it was time for a proper Winchester holiday celebration. Because heck, they deserved to celebrate after they literally saved the world, thank you very much. He briefly let his mind slip back to the moment he thought he would lose all this forever. He was prepared to spend eternity in darkness, reliving Naomi’s torture and her command to kill Dean over and over again. But Jack saved him, once again. He may be the most powerful being in all of creation at this moment, but he is also their three year old son, which is absolutely hilarious and makes Cas grin with a warm feeling spreading through him. Jack is gone often, trying to build a new heaven. But he also visits frequently, sometimes asking Cas for advice, sometimes simply asking for quality family time, looking to blend out his heavenly duties for a few hours. They are as patchwork as it’s gonna get but they are functional.

As his favourite song bleeds into a rendition of Silent Night, Castiel works on the last mug and hangs the dish towel on a hook to dry.

He still has over twenty minutes until they are meant to meet up at the entrance.

Him and Jack were really fortunate to have stumbled across Sam and Dean and Castiel was proud to see Jack becoming a God with the moral compass of The Righteous Man. He was over at the Mills-Hanscum household at the moment, trying to split up the holidays between both his found families. He was expected to pop in for dinner preparations later that day though.

Cas imagined Jack, Claire, Kaia, Patience and Alex huddled around a game of monopoly spread out on the living room rug next to the Christmas tree, arguing about the rules. They often played monopoly when he stopped by for a visit. He mostly watched though, or teamed up with Claire to advise her on the best strategy (and Claire usually meets his elaborations with an exasperated “It’s a game of luck, Cas.”).

He never had these moments with his real family. Yes they were siblings and they had this strong family bond, but most of their connection was formed by the need to fulfil their mission and to protect each other against forces of lucifer. They loved each other because their father created them to do so. And yet Castiel missed them. It wasn’t necessarily something he wanted back, he was just _nostalgic_ you could say. The Winchesters really turned his world upside down and it is not fair to compare these two worlds. He had lived billions of years as a noncorporeal wave of light in a celestial plane of being. He only started to visit earth in the last few centuries and he only took vessels a couple of times. And now he was bound to his last vessel in the form of devout James Novak. It had merged with his grace, even more so after that moment in the dungeon, where he let his grace produce hot sparks of human soul. His very own human soul. It wasn’t enough for the empty to not still take him but he doesn’t feel as an angel anymore. He was serious about the fact that Dean had changed him even if he didn’t tell him about the grace merging yet. He wasn’t scared by the immense power Dean held over him. If anything he felt reassured. Safe. Dean made everything worth it. The sacrifices. The falling. The Empty.

Castiel wipes the table with a wet cloth and gave the kitchen floor a quick sweep before meeting up with the others to go outside.

____________

Sam practically sprinted down the hallway to his room while Dean and Eileen followed warily. Once Dean reached his room, he realised he never really stacked up on gloves, hats or scarves or whatever you’re supposed to wear for a snowball fight. He rummaged through the back of his dresser and found a ratty old knit hat he didn’t remember owning. It smelled fine though, so he shrugged and laid it out on the table to put on before he went out.

He stepped out of his hotdog print sleeping bottoms and tossed them on the bed. He figured he would wanna wear his warmest flannel so he just kept on the shirt underneath and buttoned up the jacket. His only options for pants were one of his thicker jeans, which would also restrict his movements. He chose a pair equally providing warmth and enough leg freedom to run and squat. He also picked out a warmer pair of socks Sam was kind enough to gift him a few Christmases ago. He briefly remembered that his boots weren’t watertight but it was too late now to change that. Dean figured he would have to ask his brother for gloves and a scarf (he absolutely did not want to wear a scarf but the prospect of the biting cold wind in his face made him shudder). So he laced up his boots, slipped into his jacket and grabbed the hat before he left for Sam’s room.

_____________

_“Sam, do I have to?”_ Eileen moaned.

Sam stepped over to where she was sitting on his bed, still draped in his robe and pretending to shiver. He crouched down before her and rubbed her arms emphatically.

_“Just for an hour? Do it for me, please.”_ He made use of his puppy eyes which made Eileen kiss him instead of answering.

_“Okay that’s a yes in my books.”_ Sam laughed and got up to look for his snow gear. He produced four woollen hats, three scarves and two pairs of fingerless gloves. He frowned at his stash.

Eileen eyed the gloves sceptically. _“I can put my entire arm in those. Also how am I supposed to sign with fingerless gloves?”_

Sam chose a hat, scarf and gloves for himself and turns around. _“We’ll think of something. Maybe Dean has some gloves at his room.”_

_____________

_“Sammy, you decent? I need a scarf. And maybe gloves? I know you got a stash in there.”_

Dean knocked at door number 21 and waited for it to open. A few seconds later Sam’s head shot through a gap.

_“Hey, yeah, so I got this - ”_ He produced a huge, green knit scarf _“and these gloves if you want. Also maybe get Cas this hat? You know, to blend in?”_

_“Hmm, thanks.”_ Dean murmurs and accepts the items.

_“Do you have finger gloves or anything for Eileen?”_

_“Uh, no. Sorry.”_

Sam nods. _“See you in five.”_ He adds and closes the door.

_“Yeah.”_ Dean replies and looks at the items in his hands. He tries to unfold the scarf and huffs. That’s so gonna get in the way of everything.


	7. Baby it's cold outside (so please wear this hat)

Dean meets Castiel on top of the Staircase and hands him the blue wool hat. The angel put his tan overcoat on top of his hideous jumper, which just looks - let's say peculiar.

_“Doctor’s orders.”_ Dean explains Sam’s concerns for Castiel to ‘blend in’ (and his own ones for the angel’s ears, but no need to say that part out loud).

Castiel thanks Dean and takes the hat from his hands. He removes the antlers from his head and puts the band in his trench coat pocket. He puts on the hat and earns an immediate grin from Dean who points out it’s crooked. (He doesn’t point out that it compliments his eyes, though).

_“Here, let me.”_ Dean easily steps into Cas’ space and adjusts the hat to sit properly on his head and ears. _“Now you’re one of us.”_ He laughs, content with his work, before putting on his own hat.

Cas smiles back at Dean and produces the antler headpiece from his pocket. He places it on top of his hat and nods. _“I’m ready now.”_

Dean bites back a snarky remark, not daring to be the reason to make Cas’ happy expression fade away again. Instead, he tries to sling the monstrosity of a scarf around his neck and sticks his hands into the heavily padded gloves. How ever he is supposed to win a snowball fight with these was beyond him.

Dean and Cas turn to see Sam and Eileen stomping through the library and heading for the stairs. Sam is hauling the monstrous sled over one shoulder and is grinning from ear to ear. _“Let’s go, guys!”_ He exclaims.

Eileen doesn’t look too unhappy anymore, clad in what Dean believes to be Mary’s old finger gloves and one of Sam’s old beanies and a red, thick scarf. She even gives them a thumbs up.

_“Wait!”_ Dean suddenly remembers. _“I forgot my fuel.”_

He flies down the stairs before his brother can reach the first step and aims for the liquor cabinet. He grabs the fullest bottle he can see and jogs back to catch up with the others, who were already heading out the door.

He can hear Sammy’s voice echo through the narrow hallway that connects the bunker to the outside world:

_“Let the snow games commence!”_

__________________________

There is a moderately steep hill behind the bunker. It is kind of the perfect sledding slope, which probably prompted the Men of Letters from fifty years ago to invest in the appropriate gear to make use of it come wintertime. The visible part of their home was obscured from view by a thin line of trees, which made it invisible looking up from Lebanon city centre, that was nestled in the distance across some open fields. As they all stood on the hill, they took in the white landscape, which was more than ‘dusted’ with snow. As Castiel anticipated, it must have been around twenty inches or more, because they all sunk in about calf- or knee-deep trying to reach their destination. The day was kind of gloomy and grey and the roofs of the far away houses were snowy, and everything looked pretty magical, Dean had to admit.

_“Okay, how about you go first, Cas, I’ll show you what to do.”_ Sam insists eagerly, placing the heavy sled on the semi-firm snow.

For all his excitement, Castiel did look just faintly intimidated.

_“Just, you know, sit on it.”_ Sam gestured at the sleigh as Dean and Eileen stood by, watching.

Castiel sat down tentatively, placing his feet on the skids by instinct.

_“Alright, so this sleigh doesn’t have reins, so why don’t you just hold on to the wood – yeah like that. Are you settled? Feel good?”_

_“I guess?”_

_“Okay, now the sleigh will just slip down all by itself, the only thing you have to do is stay on it, understand? Don’t let go.”_

_“Yes.”_ Castiel frowns. _“Can you push me?”_

Sam looks back over his shoulder as if to seek out Dean's confirmation. Dean replies with a jerk of his head, clearly indicating to push the angel already.

_“I’m pushing now.”_ Sam announces.

And just like that Cas is on his way down and out of Dean’s and Eileen’s sight.

_“Was that a yelp?”_ Dean asks while rushing forward to see what’s happening.

Castiel has already arrived at the bottom of the hill, seemingly unharmed.

_“I think he got the gist of it.”_ Sam muses.

______________________________

After everyone took several turns on the sleigh, (Castiel practically bullied Dean to ‘try it’, countering every excuse from Dean’s side: _“I’ve been sledding before in my life, you know, Cas?” “Yes, but was it on this hill?”_ While Eileen insisted on only riding the sleigh with Sam joining her and holding her tight) they continue with snow angels, before the clearing would be completely stomped flat by their boot prints.

Dean takes a large swig from his half-empty bottle before handing it over to Castiel.

_“So you find a patch of undisturbed snow, like here.”_ He points to a space close to a pine tree they hadn’t violated yet and gracefully drops down on his ass. _“Be careful when you get down or you’ll disfigure your angel.”_ He lets out a quiet laugh and Castiel’s eyebrows knit even closer together in concentration. Dean then splays out his arms and legs, repeating the motion a few times, and gets back up to look at the result. He retrieves his bottle from Castiel’s ice-cold fingers and takes another gulp.

_“Pretty neat, I think.”_ He assesses his work. _“Your turn, pal.”_

Sam and Eileen had already run off to find patches of their own (which they intentionally or not did so at the other side of the clearing, almost out of earshot, Dean thought, as he could only hear faint giggling).

As Castiel tries to mimic Dean’s demonstrations, his trench coat does get in the way, but other than that he creates a decent angel.

_“Look at you making angels.”_ Dean comments, while Cas struggles to carefully get up from his lying position to not disturb the artwork. 

Cas looks at their two angels next to each other, his interpretation antlered and a little chubbier, thanks to his coat. He absentmindedly accepts the bottle Dean holds out for him and takes a swig before returning it.

_“We made snow angels.”_ His face splits into a grin.

_“Well yeah, prepare to say goodbye though, because I believe it is snowball fight time now.”_ Dean explains, gesturing to Sam and Eileen who were basically rolling in the snow trying to get on top of each other to shove handfuls of snow down the other’s neck.

_“That’s … what we are doing?”_ Castiel asks, observing the pair before looking back at Dean.

_“Uh, I guess that’s their warmup. We don't have to do that.”_ Dean retorts, stalking toward his brother while trying to suppress the blush creeping up his face.

_“Okay.”_ Dean announces to the group, making Sam and Eileen stop dead in their tracks (they were still giggling, though). _“I suggest we first get our defences up and prepare for battle. Let’s say ten minutes to build a wall and arm ourselves.”_

_“Sounds good to me. Eileen?”_ Sam turns around, so Eileen can read him. _“Get as much snow over here as you can. We’re gonna get our wall up first.”_

Eileen nods solemnly and starts dragging snow toward Sam with her feet.

_“Alright, listen Cas.”_ Dean starts, while dragging the angel away from the enemy by his arm. _“We have to win this fight or Sam will not stop rubbing it in my face.”_ He is practically whispering at this point. _“You gotta form some great snowballs because I can’t really use my hands with these gloves.”_ He wiggles his heavily padded hands in the space between them. _“So just prepare as many as you can and make them hard. Wait, let me show you how.”_

Dean slips off his gloves and scoops up a generous amount of snow between his bare hands. _“You gotta press the snow real hard to get a compact little ball that flies how you want it to fly.”_ He takes a few seconds to form the ball to perfection and hands it over to Castiel. _“Now make as many as you can and put them down here.”_ Dean clears a spot down to the frozen grass and points at it. _“I will start on the wall now to protect us and our ammunition.”_

Dean thrusts his bottle into a cloud of snow and slips on his gloves. He then gathers the surrounding snow to pile it into a low defence wall. When the surrounding snow is used up, he tries to gather as much as he can in his arms to take back to his building site. From the corner of his eye he can see that Sam and Eileen used the sleigh to stack their pre-formed snowballs on.

_“Time’s up!”_ Eileen suddenly declares and throws the first icy punch at an unprepared Castiel. He just blinks back at her, exploding snow slowly melting into his shoulder.

_“Duck!”_ Dean yells at him and Cas complies. They crowd behind the tiny wall that Dean scrambled to erect in the tight time frame. It is way too small to shield them both sufficiently.

_“Okay.”_ Dean whispers. _“Now it’s basically every man for himself. Just try and hit them with the snowballs, I don’t care how you do it, just try and score. You can also target their wall.”_

_“I’ll try that”_ Castiel whispers back and grabs a ball from their stack. As he darts out of the covers, he slams the ball right through Sam and Eileen’s wall.

_"Nice shot!!"_ Dean exclaims at the same time Sam shouts _“Not fair!”_

_“Cas, stop it with the super strength or I swear to god, if you hurt Eileen – “_

That’s about as far as he gets as one of Dean’s throws hit him in the head, almost making his hat fall off. Sam curses and tries to crouch and make himself smaller.

Encouraged by his success, Dean darts out from behind the wall and sends a snowball splattering against Eileen’s thigh. He rolls back into their hide quickly, so that her response slams into the defence. Dean grins at Cas, taking another swig from the bottle. _“We’re doing great, pal.”_

They were, in fact, doing great. Until Cas decided to play it fair, which resulted in more misses than hits and Dean decided to drain the entire bottle of whiskey because he felt ‘cold’. That was about the moment when Sam and Eileen made use of their height. Sam, standing tall, aimed at Dean and Cas behind their half-crumpled wall, easily landing one hit after another while Dean replied with curses each and every time. Eileen, being small and quick, easily evaded Dean’s failing attempts to actually land a ball where he intended to.

_“Alright, alright.”_ Dean intercedes sometime after they went out of ammunition and the enemy blows came more rapidly than they could respond to. Dean and Cas both looked rumpled and soaked. Sam even managed to send Cas’ antlers flying some time during the match. He held out his open palms in a gesture of defeat and came crawling out behind the ruins of their collapsed defence wall. _“ We get it. You win. Now I REALLY need to warm up.”_


End file.
